


Time Together

by GobbleFunkwithWords



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Bonding, Christmas Eve, Fluff, Found Family, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28498440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GobbleFunkwithWords/pseuds/GobbleFunkwithWords
Summary: Jonah invites Peter and Simon to spend Christmas Eve together.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard & Simon Fairchild & Peter Lukas, Elias Bouchard | Jonah Magnus/Peter Lukas, Simon Fairchild & Jonah Magnus, Simon Fairchild & Peter Lukas
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Time Together

“Did you know,” Jonah begins, a welcome phrase which usually heralds a long stretch of the conversation in which Peter is expected to say very little, “that the first time I celebrated Christmas with a tree like this, it was with Mordechai?”

  
Peter blinks, looking up from the box of decorations at his feet.

“With  **Mordechai** ?” Christmas, as far as Peter was concerned, was not a Lonely holiday. Why his ancestor would have partaken in it was beyond him.

Jonah nods, balanced precariously on the top of a stepladder, attempting to hang garlands on their recently-acquired pine tree.

“Mhm. 1803. He invited a few other associates and me to Moorland House for the festivities. Simon was there, although he went by another name at the time.”

  
Simon lifts the whisky glass he’s holding in silent acknowledgement. He’s made himself quite comfortable, lounging on their sofa with a drink in one hand and some sort of overly-expensive canapé in the other.

“It was surprisingly nice,” Jonah confesses, no longer looking at the garlands in front of him but instead at events long-passed. “Mordechai was only just coming into his own, you see, and had yet to fully commit to the Lonely. He was young. All of us were. Except for Simon, I suppose.”

Simon chuckles, speaking through a mouthful of canapé in a way that makes Jonah’s nose wrinkle (which is cute, but Peter would never admit it).

“I was and am still young, Jonah. On a cosmic scale, none of us is any different from a newborn - not even that. We’re fetal.”

Jonah sighs through his nose in (affectionate) exasperation. He begins to climb down the ladder.

And continues to climb down the ladder.

Ad continues...

Another sigh. “Simon. Please.”

There’s a chuckle, and Jonah finds the ground again. Both the other men are looking at him, fondly amused. Jonah rolls his eyes, turning to his husband expectantly.

“Peter, do you have the angel?” Peter nods, holding it out. It had been all tangled up and buried under the rest of the decorations, and he had been given the straight-forward task of uncovering it. Jonah smiles

  
“Thank you.” He takes it, choosing not to comment on how the words bring a blush high to Peter’s cheek. With a warning glance to Simon, he gets back onto the ladder, placing the little angel statuette at the top of the tree.

“My point was, I don’t believe I’ve had a proper Christmas celebration since. Institute Christmas parties notwithstanding.” He allows himself a small smile. “I find myself rather liking it.”

Simon laughs. Jonah shoots him a dirty look, but his frown melts away when he sees his expression. The old man is grinning, head tossed back with his eyes closed in mirth. (He has laugh lines. Jonah had never noticed.)

Peter is also smiling; something a lot rarer (and therefore, more precious). It’s a small thing, partially hidden behind his thick beard and concealed by shadows cast across his face by the firelight, but there all the same.

“Apologies, Jonah.” Simon does not sound in the least apologetic. “But I do love to see you forgetting to be a monster from time to time. It’s rather endearing.”

Jonah looks baffled at the statement, but Simon has never been particularly inclined to explain himself and doesn’t seem in the mood to change that, and so he resolves to mark it the rambling outburst of a strange old man and nothing more. Nevermind that the declaration had made him feel… distinctly understood. An unpleasant sensation.

“Regardless. What I was  _ trying  _ to say, was that I am quite enjoying myself.” A pointed glare in Simon’s direction. “Though perhaps next year I should invest in better company.”

Simon chuckles, unphased. “Never. You are far too sweet on both of us to leave us behind for any significant stretch of time.”

Before Jonah can continue the not-quite-argument, the oven  _ ding _ s, announcing that the roast was ready to come out. Peter stands up, glad for the chance to do something with his hands, and rushes over to pull it out. Of the three of them, he was the only half-decent cook. Jonah had always been a disaster in the kitchen, and Simon tended to get distracted halfway through, so Peter’s ability to follow instructions and not burn the house down was sorely needed.

Simon stands up to follow, hovering (literally) over Peter’s shoulder to peer at the goose. He whistles, giving Peter a hardy pat on the back, far stronger than a man his age or size should be. Jonah moves to look as well, nodding to himself.

  
“It looks delicious, dear.” The pet name makes Peter flush.

“It’s fine.” He elbows Simon out of the way as he heads towards the dining table. Simon claps his hands together in delight.

  
“Time for dinner!” He announces, to no one in particular. Peter and Jonah exchange an amused look as Peter sets the dish down, and all three men take their seats. Just before Peter gets the chance to tuck in, Jonah leans over and gives Peter a soft peck on the cheek, smiling against his husband’s skin.

“You know why I like this Christmas so much?” He whispers while Simon begins eating. “It’s because you’re here, with me.”

Peter turns his head away, cheeks a furious pink, as he fiddles with his napkin.

His response is almost imperceptible. Perhaps Jonah wouldn’t have even heard it had it not been for the Eye.

“I’m glad I am.”


End file.
